


Three Wishes

by KAZ1167



Category: Free!
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Loosely inspired by Aladdin, M/M, Modern Fairytale Theme for the Free Shipping Relay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KAZ1167/pseuds/KAZ1167
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru's grandmother loves telling stories of faraway places, magical lands, and heroic princes and princesses. One story about a boy and the three wishes granted to him by a genie becomes Makoto's favorite as a child and magically works its way into his own life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Wishes

_Makoto blows gently on the rusting silver teapot in in his hands, a small puff of dust clouding his vision. It's old, the sheen worn away after years of sitting upon a shelf, loved yet untouched, but the fine details--patterns of intricate swirls and flowering vines etched across its surface--are still visible, still noticeable under the pad of Makoto's small finger when he traces the lines._

_"Obaasan, where did you get this?"_

_Haru's grandmother sits forward in her chair at Makoto's question, smiling softly at the childish curiosity in his eyes.  She reaches a hand out for him to place it in her palm, her skin thin and marked in splotchy, aged patterns like the small spots of rust on the silver tea kettle before her._

_"Haru's ojiisan loved to travel--did you know that Makoto?  He brought this back to me after he was gone for months exploring the world. Age hasn't treated it well, but it's special to me, means more than any other item in this room."_

_It isn't as glamorous as she makes it sound--her love had been a fisherman and traveled only as far as his small ship took him--but when he'd returned for good, he'd brought this unimposing tea kettle with him and a promise to stay on land, a promise to start a family with her.  She has a flare for storytelling, for helping others see beauty and magic even in small, quiet stories, and the way Makoto's large green eyes light up at the prospect of such an ‘exotic’ item in his presence from a piece of the world he has yet to know encourages her to continue.  She smiles at his eagerness when she hands the item back to him, watching as he rubs at the silver with the edge of his shirt.  Even Haru looks intrigued and she laughs softly at the small victory she claims for sparking his interest, a story primed on the tip of her tongue._

_"Have I ever told you boys the story of Aladdin and his magic lamp?"  She smiles when Haru's eyes light with fascination despite his otherwise stoic expression and how Makoto, mouth agape and eyes wide, cradles the teapot in his arms. When they both shake their heads in response, she allows the story to unfurl from her lips with ease, the tale of a boy with nothing but a good heart and quick mind, who stumbled upon a magic lamp containing a genie who could grant him three wishes, three wishes to help him in his quest for the princess’s heart…_

______

Makoto wakes when the chime of his cellphone alarm bleeds into his dream, a swirl of sand and enchanted, ink-blue skies drifting further away with each second that passes. It is 5:30am and Makoto is not a morning person, not in the slightest, but he pushes the warm blankets off of himself and groggily swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He stands and stretches, feeling the pull in his somewhat stiff muscles. He may have over done it a little yesterday with the fifty extra laps of crawl at the end of practice. But it'll be worth it in the end, he knows. 

He pulls on his running gear, layering for extra protection against the bite of the spring air.  Ready, he tries to open the door as quietly as he can, hoping to avoid alerting his parents and siblings to his departure. Of course he isn't doing anything wrong per say, but Makoto knows how exhausted his parents are during the week and wants to let them sleep in for as long as they need. He makes his way down the stairs before pulling on his shoes, running his hand through his hair, and opening the door to a lithe figure dressed in neon green and black, red haired pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, crimson eyes focused on the white cat who has made its home outside of Makoto's house, and another figure dressed in shades of black and a blue that mirrors the color of his eyes, a seemingly apathetic smile that doesn’t match the warmth flickering in his gaze while he plays with the little white resident in Makoto’s bushes.  Rin looks up and meets Makoto’s eyes with the sound of the door, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth in greeting before he pushes away from the post he’s leaning on.

“Ready?” He glances over Makoto’s choice of clothing—a similar shade of neon yellow-green as his own with black accents—before a genuine smile breaks across his face, his sharp teeth catching Makoto’s attention in the misty morning light. “Wow, way to copy my look, Makoto…”

“It’s an accident, I swear--” Makoto rubs his hand over his neck, laughing lightly in response when Rin cuts him off, tells him to stop taking him seriously and takes off in a jog.  The feeling in his chest is warm despite the chilled air filling his lungs when he starts after him, finding a pace that accounts for his longer strides yet keeps him by Rin’s side, Haru tagging along a little behind them (he says he prefers it this way, lets him take in more of the ocean view, which is fine, although he and Rin throw frequent glances back at him to make sure he hasn’t stripped down and taken off for the ocean).  They fall into a comfortable silence, the panting breaths and steady beat of their feet hitting the ground and picking up the further they push away from the comfort of Makoto’s house, the neighborhood he shares with Haru, and closer to the lip of the sea.

Makoto enjoys their weekend runs—the only time they really can train together—with Rin off at Samezuka during the week and too far to make the commute between them practical.  Even now, Makoto wonders how early Rin wakes up on the weekends to make it to Makoto’s house by 5:30am on the dot, but he doesn’t bring it up in the fear that Rin will finally recognize the selfish side of Makoto that keeps letting Rin trek to his house every Saturday and Sunday to train.  Rin’s right though, they do kind of look like they match one another, and for a second, Makoto wonders if they look like a couple (but that’s a dangerous thought, one he’s been dancing around with less and less success since the three of them had started running each weekend, since he started spending more time swimming laps with Rin after practice, since he realized the way he feels about Rin is different than what he feels for Haru, or Nagisa, or Rei) or if they look just like any other pair of teenagers out running at a ridiculously early hour on a Saturday morning. 

Makoto notices Rin’s pace slow beside him and he faintly realizes they have reached the place they typically turn around and head home despite his body’s desire to keep going, keep moving further away from the safe, comfortable confines of his sleepy neighborhood.  But, he slows and stops beside him, wiping the light sweat off of his brow, watching perhaps too intently when Rin does the same before he reaches back to redo the ponytail that has allowed a few too many red strands to escape its grasp while they wait for Haru to reach them.  It’s at that moment Rin’s phone rings and he’s grumbling something about underclassmen abusing his number (he’d only given them his cell number “for emergencies, if they are struggling with anything and need to talk, not for calls about random shit,” he gripes).  He watches Rin pace absentmindedly, listening to what appears to be a worthwhile call, when he hears Haru’s semi-labored breathing come up beside him.

“Have you told Rin yet?”  He can feel Haru’s gaze on him, invested more in watching his immediate reaction to the question than the words that will follow.  He hopes the flicker of hesitation he knows passes through his gaze and the apprehension he feels settle in his jaw don’t outwardly show on his face, but Haru’s mouth pulls into a slight frown and he knows he’s been caught. “Is there a  _reason_  you aren’t telling Rin you want to swim professionally?”

“I just haven’t really found the right time or figured out how to tell him, I guess…”  Makoto absentmindedly plays with the hem of his shirt, fingers toying with the slick material beneath his hands before he catches himself doing so.  He knows he’s a strange combination of features when watched, stature and build speaking of confidence, strength, and other things he feels on good days.  But it’s in moments like these when he still feels like the small boy hiding behind his friends’ backs in the face of something too intimidating and immense to handle alone and he knows he looks it, green eyes betraying whatever he hopes to hide.  It's strange, his reluctance to tell Rin about what he wants, but he supposes that extends to more than just swimming right now.

He knows Rin would encourage him, regarding what he wants for his future and swimming.  He isn’t sure when he realized he wanted to be scouted and shoot for the Olympics, but he wants it more than he’s ever wanted something for himself.  He's strong enough at backstroke that he has a chance of getting scouted if he pushes himself this year and he  _wants_  that chance, wants to see what he can achieve if he leaves his comfort zone.

He isn’t sure what Rin would make of the  _other things_ he wants. He wants to hear Rin say his name in the same soft tones he’s heard him whisper at night, deep in sleep on the futon beside Makoto’s bed.  He wants to know if Rin’s teeth feel as sharp as they look when Makoto catches him biting his lip and eyeing Makoto before he dives into the pool.  He wants to know if the sometimes shared glances mean the same thing to Rin that they do to Makoto, if the nights when Rin’s stayed at his house because he “just missed the last train” are entirely accidental or something more, and if the fact he’s stopped throwing his arm over his shoulder like he does with Haru and seems almost hesitant to casually touch Makoto like he used to is a good or bad thing. 

He wants the boy he’d fill an entire pool with cherry blossoms for to know just how much he’s loved.

“Just tell him.” 

Makoto meets Haru’s gaze at that and he knows that Haru  _knows_ , has figured him out despite his best efforts to keep everything hidden away. For as well as Makoto can read Haru, Haru’s ability to read him is almost terrifyingly more accurate.

“I wish it was that simple.” He replies, a sense of resignation in the shrug of his shoulders.  The twitch in Haru’s eyebrow throws him, though, and the determination that settles across his features nearly matches that of when he’s determined to swim, regardless of how cold the water or small the source.  Rin crosses back to them then, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Sorry, apparently Momotarou was trying to measure Nitori’s waist in his sleep for some costume or something, and—“

“Makoto wants to swim professionally.”

Makoto can feel the shock on his face (his eyes going wide, his jaw dropping) at Haru’s sudden declaration of Makoto’s carefully considered decision.  He isn’t quite sure what to make of the wide crimson eyes appraising him in response (full of confusion and questions and…excitement, Makoto thinks) but he takes the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips to be a good sign.

“Sounds good to me.”  Rin watches him carefully, smiling warmly in a way that makes Makoto’s chest fill with an airy feeling. He claps a hand on Makoto’s shoulder, his sharp-toothed smile mischievous and teasing.  “I’m gonna kick your ass with extra training until nationals then.”

Makoto laughs back, trying not to get derailed by the weight of Rin’s hand still on his shoulder and the lack of space left between them, before Rin’s taking off yet again, running toward home.  Haru moves to follow, before turning and facing Makoto once more.

“Halfway there, Makoto.”

As he runs home, the feeling of Rin’s hand still on his shoulder and where it traced lightly down his back lingering on his skin, he supposes that Haru’s right.

______

_Aladdin’s first wish was granted with ease, but the second came in a moment of panic when his true identity had been discovered, his life in jeopardy.  He wished in a haze, the genie granting his wish with haste._

______

The excuse of “training” becomes a convenient term thrown around between the two of them, despite the fact that their routine of running and swimming can hardly account for the number of hours spent in Rin’s small dorm room watching movies with a smattering of well-meaning first and second years, or at Makoto’s house babysitting the twins or working on homework.

Time with others feels safe, secure, with the distraction of other people to keep Makoto from fixating on the way Rin smells faintly of cherry blossoms even from two feet away or the way Rin always manages to find a spot next to him and will lovingly shove the younger students over to accommodate him. 

It’s when they are left alone that Makoto feels the weight of something heavy and urgent pressing against his chest. 

Which he feels right now. 

Because they’re alone, at Makoto’s house,  _right now_.

It’s become normal for Rin to stay for the afternoon after their morning run, to shower at his house and borrow a pair of too-big clothes (Haru glared intently when Rin had borrowed “his” yellow and orange shirt), and spend the afternoon helping Makoto help the twins or working on homework.   It’s normal for them to tease one another, Makoto more at ease with poking fun at “RinRin’s” peculiar distaste for Makoto’s citrusy body wash (although Makoto doesn’t understand why he doesn’t just use their normal soap instead if he hates it so much…) and the vague threats Rin makes to bite him if he doesn’t shut up about it.  

But it  _isn’t_  normal for Rin to be this closed off, Makoto’s silent question of “are you alright?” met with a stilted “Let’s watch a movie, mm?” and an avoidant red gaze.  As they settle in on Makoto’s bed, closer than necessary, Makoto can hardly focus on the movie playing before him, too distracted by the smell of his body wash on the too warm figure beside him and the way Rin’s thigh just barely presses against his own.  Despite Rin’s open vulnerability at times, he’s harder to read than most people realize and he wonders if Rin feels as nervous as he does, if these feelings are as foreign for Rin as they are for him, and he wishes for the courage to do something,  _anything_ , that moves them forward.

Without thinking, he places his hand on Rin’s. He feels Rin stiffen beside him, the way Rin’s shoulder brushes against his as his back straightens, but the hand in his feels…nice. It feels even better when Rin’s hand, smaller than his own, slowly turns under his before he laces their fingers together, palms pressing tightly together.  And somewhere around the moment when Rin begins hesitantly moving his thumb in small, light, swipes across the back of Makoto’s own hand and thumb, does Makoto realize the gravity of what he’s done.

That fragile, thin line that they both had tiptoed around for weeks on end, had been crossed. It had been blurring for a while now, like a line poorly drawn in sand centimeters away from the tide, but he’d been the one to finally cross it.  

Makoto glances at Rin then, his pulse racing in his veins, the movie nearly forgotten when his eyes meet crimson. They’re so close, he can see the way Rin’s throat moves as he swallows before inhaling and releasing a shaky breath, can feel the slight tremor of nerves and an untested energy running through the place where Rin’s shoulder presses against his own, and then Rin’s moving, slowly, tipping closer to him carefully as if scared of crossing that made up line even further, and Makoto closes his eyes because he can’t keep staring at  _that shade_  of red in Rin’s gaze, and his kiss is soft and raw and vulnerable and perfect… 

He lets his free hand find its way to Rin’s hair, finally running through the red strands he’s been desperate to touch for weeks. Rin opens his mouth against his own, breathing into the kiss and angling toward him, reaching for the nape of Makoto’s neck and brushing his fingers through his hair.  Rin groans, small and soft, when Makoto moves his lips against Rin’s bottom lip, his tongue tracing against it hesitantly, and suddenly the kiss is warmer, more intense, and Makoto loves all of it.  They draw apart and Rin rests his forehead against Makoto’s while they catch their breath.

“Rin, I…”

The sound of Ran’s and Ren’s voices accompany the opening of a door downstairs and Makoto breaks away just as he pulls his hand out of Rin’s, quick enough for Makoto to feel Rin’s gaze shift to him, to analyze Makoto in a way he’s grown used to from Rin since they’ve started training together.  The spell broken, he wonders what Rin sees in him then ( _can he see his fear of having crossed that line, of having prompted some kind of change between them?_ ), but then Rin’s leaving, hands shoved in his pockets, and if it weren’t for the tightness in his chest, the tension he feels them both attempting to pretend isn’t there, Makoto thinks it would have been like any other afternoon.

______

_Even when the sultan’ s royal vizier plotted to rid Aladdin from the city and take the sultan’s power for himself, Aladdin saved his final wish until after he had been defeated._

______

The day they break begins with a grey sky, the crackling of low rolling thunder overhead substituting for the shrill ringing of Makoto’s alarm.  He tries to catch the last trails of sleep as he turns over and buries his face in his still-cool pillow, but with the start of the sharp  _clip-clip-clipclipclip_  of rain smacking against his window, an alertness jolts through him as a white flash of lightening briefly illuminates his room. 

Makoto gets out of bed, an hour earlier than usual for their Saturday run, but at least he’ll have another hour to decide how to handle Rin’s imminent arrival. The sound of drops hitting his roof is dampened by the layers of shingles, insulation, and wood separating them, but its beat can still be heard when he slips out of his loose boxers and into his running clothes.  Hopefully the rain will stop in time for their usual morning routine.

Another burst of lightening, a crack of thunder, and Makoto wonders if Rin will come at all. 

Whatever he'd expected to come with his decision to pursue the Olympics and the one-time kiss, the growing distance between himself and Rin was not it.  He noticed when Rin started standing a little further away from him during joint practices before avoiding him entirely.  He’d started showing up later to their scheduled runs and leaving immediately afterward. And then suddenly, Rin's teasing smiles and warm gazes had just...stopped.  Disappeared.  Something had been lost in translation between them and the strain, the  _coldness,_  cementing itself with every avoided moment and ignored gaze is exhausting. 

_This has to stop._

Makoto huffs and paces the small space in his room, attempting to distract himself by counting the seconds between each bolt of lightning and rolling burst of thunder, but he gives up after a moment, sitting on the edge of his bed.  He reaches for his phone, flips through his many messages from Nagisa and a few from Haru until he reaches Rin’s name.  He hasn’t texted him for nearly two and half weeks, the last message a happy “see you soon!” from before Rin had arrived on  _that_  Saturday.

Makoto isn’t the best at being upfront with weighty feelings, at laying things out in the open to breathe and heal, but if he’s learned anything from this past year and the entire debacle between Rin and Haru, it’s that sometimes he  _has_  to speak up or risk losing something ( _someone_ ) important to him.  He types his message before he can think about it too much and shuffle behind his protective façade of smiles and cheer, avoid confronting whatever outcome—good or bad—may be looming on the horizon.

_"What's going on between us?"_

He sees the little bubble with the indication that Rin’s typing something back before the nerves set in and his chest tightens, his heart pounds, his hands shake. Maybe he wasn’t ready to have this conversation.  Maybe he was supposed to just let things go, to ease back into their safe state of normalcy over time.  His entire body is urging him to run, to tell Rin to “just forget about it,” to just pretend whatever it was that shifted between them had never moved in the first place. 

The bubble keeps popping up and disappearing; Rin doesn’t know what to say either. He isn’t sure if that comforts him or scares him more.

Finally, he gets a text back.

_"What do you want, Makoto?"_

_This is it._

_Are you still coming this morning_ —-delete.

 _I want to talk to you —-_ delete.

 _We need to—-_ delete.

 _I wish I could--_ He stops typing. Deletes the words one letter at time as the weight of realization settles over him, a need mixed with fear heavy in his chest.

He wants to see Rin.  

He doesn't want Rin to pull away because Makoto wants this,  _wants them,_ and he's just as scared of what  _this_  could all mean, but he's willing to risk it for the possibility of "them".

He only realizes fifteen minutes have lapsed when he closes his phone and makes his way downstairs, ready to slip on his shoes and walk to the train in a raging thunderstorm because they need to have this conversation face to face, where Rin can read his every movement, every flicker of emotion in his eyes, and Makoto can read his.

Instead, he finds Rin outside his door when he attempts to leave, drenched by the merciless rain overhead, hand grasping at his soaked hair in an action Makoto knows means he's unsure of what to do or say next. He starts when the door opens, red eyes darting to Makoto's, and Makoto feels the air sucked out of his chest when their gazes lock and fail to flick away.  Despite the downpour, neither move; Makoto suddenly can't fight down the question that's been seared into mind, burning unpleasantly, for weeks. 

"What do  _you_  want, Rin?"

Rin's mouth falls into a frown of sorts, like the answer he knows will hurt Makoto just as much as it hurts him to say.

"I think we’re spending too much time with each other.  Even if we both get scouted, there’s no guarantee we’ll end up at the same place or even make it to the Olympics.  Don’t you think it’s better we get used to being apart now instead of getting comfortable with…whatever this is."

A chill runs down his spine and it's the first time he really feels the rain on his skin, unpleasant and sharp and cold. 

_Don't do this Rin, don't slip away again._

“Is that really it, Rin?”  Rin looks pained, like he’s unsure of what to do in the face of risking so much, in giving a definitive answer.  “If you want me to just be your friend, I can do that.  I’d rather have you in my life as my friend than not at all, but I want you, Rin.  I really care about you and want more…for us.  But it’s up to you, Rin.”

Rin’s only just become accustomed to their group of friends again, only just repaired his relationship with Haru and himself.  Neither had ever expected feelings beyond friendship to develop between them and they’re facing an entirely new world depending on Rin’s answer.

But Rin leaves, and Makoto runs, past the halfway point they’ve marked, past the streets with which he’s familiar, until he can’t keep running, the rain cold on his skin, soaking through his clothing and numbing his limbs.

_______

_Finally, Aladdin had reached his third wish and the genie patiently waited.  Aladdin could have wished for anything in the world, but instead, he granted the genie his freedom.  With his final wish the genie disappeared and his princess returned to his arms._

_______

Makoto laughs softly at the chorus of voices reaching his ears from below, having escaped the celebrations to his own room for a brief respite.

He’d done it.  He’d placed first in backstroke at Nationals and he’d been scouted. 

So had Rin.

There’s a part of him that wishes things had worked out slightly differently between them, but they’re both one step closer to their dreams and really, what more could Makoto ask for?

He pulls the medal from his pocket, setting it atop his shelf of treasured items beside an old silver teapot that used to belong to Haru’s grandmother, given to him when she passed away.  He picks up the item, smiling faintly at the memory of a story spun of wishes and romance on a rainy day, tracing his finger over the lightly engraved details in the surface.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Makoto turns to the voice in his doorway, setting the teapot down in its rightful spot. He smiles at the sheepish way Rin runs his hand through his hair while practically waiting for an invitation to enter, a stark contrast to how easily Rin had fit himself into his life a few weeks ago.

“Of course.” Makoto gestures to sit on the bed, but Rin’s crossing to him instead, closing the gap between them and hesitantly reaching for Makoto’s hand, his gaze locked on where his hand grasps Makoto’s. 

“Do you think you’d still want more than just friendship?  For us?”  Rin’s face flushes a pretty color against his hair and Makoto allows him to intertwine their fingers, trying to remain calm despite the sudden lack of oxygen in his lungs.

“Yes…I just...I want you to be happy.”  Makoto steps in closer, traces his thumb over the back of Rin’s hand, willing him to meet his gaze.

“So if I told you that you make me happy and that I screwed up when I left that morning?  What would you say to that?”  Rin finally meets his eyes, his gaze shining, and it’s beautiful, and strong, and open (it’s everything Makoto fell for, really).  He reaches up with his free hand to push the red locks falling across his cheeks back, lets his fingertips brush lightly against the soft skin of Rin’s cheek. 

“I’d say that I'm still falling for you, Rin,” he doesn’t even care that his hand is trembling a bit when he tilts Rin’s chin up toward him, because he’s going to kiss him, has wanted to kiss him since that first interrupted moment and long before, “and if you want to give this a shot, it might just make me happier than I felt winning and getting scouted…”  

“Just might, huh?”  The shift in Rin’s gaze to something warmer, more teasing, makes him comfortable; the smirk that pulls at Rin's lips lightening the heavy mood between them.  He can feel Rin’s breathy words on his skin before he’s kissing away that tempting smirk, hands tangling in his hair and pulling him as close to him as possible, the scent of cherry blossoms and a bit of citrus washing over him.

____

_When Haru’s grandmother finishes her story, she watches as Makoto eyes the silver item in his hand that spurred her tale, a longing gaze cast her way when he speaks._

_“Don't you wish magic, and genies, and wishes were real, Obaasan?”_

_She smiles gently and leans forward in her chair, gesturing for him to come closer, like her words are a shared secret just between them._

_“Who says they aren’t?”_


End file.
